Sometimes all you can do is, stare at the black screen or a blank piece of paper and wish for the words and ideas to magically appear.
Only if we actually lived in the world of Harry Potter or Alice in Wonderland, this would’ve been slightly possible.
Unhappy, unsatisfied blog, but, writer’s block.
Back here again,
In between memories,
Of lovely times,
Looking at the walls and corners,
Reverberating sound of our conversations,
Sending the incompleteness,
Messages of silence,
In a world full of people millions,
Contact lists full with names,
Do have one who will listen to you,
When you’re in pain?
Everyone is speaking their mind, blabbering, ranting, complaining, excusing themselves from the harshness of the world.
Imagine a person who cannot do it not because he cannot speak but because he fears that there’s no one to listen or understand.
It’s not okay to be not okay.
The stranger looked at me and smiled in a way which said it’s not that our paths have crossed only today, I know you from ages and I know how beautiful your soul is.
Such vibes are very difficult to get from someone whom you have seen for the first time and probably might not even see him ever again in life.
A bad day becomes slightly bearable when you see a genuine smile specially from a stranger who won’t even know anything about what are you going through.
Thanks to that gentleman today. 🙂
The beep beep beep noise of the rickshaw turning blasts in my ears along with the honking of the various vehicles on the road.
It sounds to me as if the bomb inside me which is ticking since last 36 hours is about to blast and the remains will be nothing but the shards of memories and unending thoughts of not one but multiple things and people.
The pressure inside me has build up so much that my heart has started to ache with it. Calm it down, cut the wires, I’m almost about to blast.
You don’t only feel anxious when you’re in a public place among strangers and wanting to go back to your safe haven.
You can also feel anxious when you’re in your safe haven, among the people whom you need not fear from.
You feel the same kind of butterflies struggling in the pit of your stomach wanting to get out of you, the sense that electricity is passing through your veins and nerves charging you for reasons unknown.
The reaction of such anxiousness becomes more radical in your safe haven.
You aren’t safe when you’re anxious, not even in your own skin.